


Clothes

by TheFairysPath (friendlyneighborhoodfairy)



Series: The Path I Took (WWTDP 2018) [19]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Dysphoria, Dry Orgasm, F/M, Genderfluid, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Nipples, Other, Reading Aloud, Tucking, cooking together, satisfied without orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodfairy/pseuds/TheFairysPath
Summary: Freed is having a femme day, but nothing is working. When Laxus comes home and Freed isn't even dressed, Freed is ready to scream.(Fic #5 forWhen We Take Different Pathsgender identity week.)





	Clothes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splendidlyimperfect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendidlyimperfect/gifts).



> Prompt = clothes + genderfluid. Fraxus.
> 
> For splendidlyimperfect, for all the things we both believe in. xoxox

Freed grabbed the role of tape more roughly than she should've and nearly sent it flying. Some of her hair caught in her mouth and she spat it out with a growl.

Fucking day.

First she'd been late to the office—not her fault, the bus had broken down. Freed was  _never_  late. Then she'd arrived to find someone had completely messed up her desk—papers disorganized, keyboard askew, her minis knocked over.

After an hour of arguing with a researcher in another field who couldn't understand why phonetic modeling  _couldn't work that way and you claim to be an expert in your field, god, Justine, is there anyone else I cant talk to?_ …she went to the bathroom to cry, but stopped halfway down the hall, remembering her… _limited_  options. She furiously trudged down two floors to the gender-neutral restroom; head in her hands, she went to text Laxus and found she'd left her phone at her desk.

Stupid, stupid day.

Now her suitpants and dress shirt had been angrily hanged (hanged not hung, after her tie tried to strangle her), she'd put on her favorite bra, and she was trying,  _trying_  to bind the stupidest part of her anatomy today into submission.

But this day would not submit. It was a cursed Thursday.

"I'm home," Laxus called, front door creaking. She inhaled, wanting both to run into his arms and hide until she felt better.

"I'm…in back," she said after a few moments. She put on a bathrobe and began attempting the knots in her hair.

When Laxus appeared, he gave her a weary but happy smile.

"Hey, love," he said, leaning in the doorframe.

"Hi." She walked over. Before he could speak, she asked, "How was your day?"

"Alright," he hummed, sliding his fingers through her hair (she blushed). "Long. I heard the bus grid went down."

She looked down at the comb in her hands.

"Yeah. Every single one stopped for about thirty minutes. I was late."

"They switch to electric transit and this is what happens…"

"It's better for the environment," she scolded.

"I know," he sighed. "All things break and it always sucks. Remember when oil prices spiked and the city couldn't afford the gas, so they stopped running half the lines?"

"Vaguely. I was eleven," she laughed, leaning up to kiss his nose.

"Oh. Yeah." He reddened. "I forget because you're so fucking smart. Nineties child."

"Nineteen-ninety!" Freed protested. "I remember the entire decade, thank you very much."

"You missed out on shoulder pads and tall hair," Laxus said. "You were lucky."

"Oh, hah. Stop being old."

This got a grunt and a chuckle out of him. She kissed his chin and put her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Finally she felt a modicum of rest.

"You look nice," he said, words rumbling against her ear as he ran his hands up and down her arms.

"I do?"

"C'mon. You always look good, plus you look like you're ready to be lazy, which I really want to join in."

Freed laughed against him. Laxus kept rubbing her back. Up and down. Soothing.

Those hands eventually migrated to her neck, easing over the muscles, kneading and squeezing and making her groan quietly. She hadn't realized she was so tense. He ran his fingers up the base of her skull gently.

"What did you  _do?_ " Laxus asked.

"Mm, gods." Freed murmured. "You're going to turn me into putty."

Laxus's other fingers ran inside her collar to press on the joints of her shoulders, thumb sliding over her collarbone. Gradual and smooth. When his hand moved a little further to get more of her shoulders, his fingers slipped under the strap of her bra and ran along it.

"Is this—?"

"Yeah," she said, inhaling deeply. "It was a bad day. I wanted to be pretty."

"And you are," he said, lips against her forehead.

She leaned into his hands, now both inside her robe to rub her shoulders. He slipped the straps of the bra down carefully, thumbs brushing along the top of her chest. It soothed the tension, and was also just close enough to make her feel…close. Intimate. A suggestion she wasn't sure was purposeful.

Then the lower parts of her body made themselves known and she remembered. Remembered that the tape hadn't worked and her dick hadn't cooperated and nothing was right in her body. How could she be beautiful when she was like this, when it was all wrong, when it—

"Freed?" Laxus asked, coming into her line of vision with a frown. She'd started to pull away from him. "Sorry, did that hurt?"

"No, no…" She rubbed her shoulder, chin jerking down in an automatic reaction to hide.

Watching her, he reached for her hand and loosely entwined their fingers.

"I— I just," she gasped, "couldn't tuck today."

"Oh…" Laxus said.

_And now it's impossible to tuck. And what you're doing feels good. But my body doesn't._

"Can we cook together?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yeah. That sounds nice."

She wandered into the kitchen and Laxus entered a minute later in boxers and a T-shirt.

"I was thinking pancakes," he said. "I know it's dinner…"

"Whoever said pancakes can't be for dinner?"

Laxus hummed while they cooked, standing side by side with Laxus handling the batter and Freed making bacon.

These sorts of things always settled calm in Freed's heart. It made the rest of the day fade into inconsequence: the shit didn't matter because shit was transient. This was also transient, but in a different way: it was one moment on a long timeline of captured beauty.

Filling their plates, they bypassed the table and settled on the sofa together, Freed putting her feet in his lap while she dipped her bacon in syrup. They recounted stories, the latest news or scientific tidbits from Twitter or the radio, and laughed at silly things.

When Freed put down her empty plate, her robe opened a bit, and a wave of insecurity came crashing back in.

"What do you feel like tonight?" Laxus asked, stretching. She saw his eye fall on his library book: some YA series Evergreen recommended which had captivated his interest.

"Reading does sound nice," she admitted. She rose. "I'll be right back."

"Still reading the Chomski versus Lakoff book?" he asked, grinning.

She'd been taking copious notes, enjoying the arguments between the two most famous linguists. Laxus found it hilarious how passionate she got at the book sometimes.

Once in the bedroom, she grabbed a pleasure read from the bedside table instead—something light was better—and then went to the bathroom for her true goal.

The tape still lay on the counter. She glared at it distrustfully.  _Behave this time. Please?_

Closing her eyes, she took her robe off and hung it on the door. When she looked in the mirror with some trepidation, her eyes first fell on the bra and that cheered her up, because she looked good and it felt right today. This particular garment had never failed to make her feel more  _her._

Her work clothes had slight variations between  _her,_   _him,_  and  _other_  days; but at home, she could go further in expressing herself.

And in feeling like herself. This bra was elegant and soft. It held her skin in such a way that she felt complete. It meant when people saw her and talked to her and interacted with her, they were interacting with  _her;_  when Laxus touched her, it was her body he touched and fantasized about.

Staring at her reflection and thinking about Laxus's hands had raised a…slight problem. Freed squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, "Think unsexy thoughts, dammit. Unsexy thoughts."

Tucking only worked if she were soft.

But trying  _not_  to think about how her body felt around Laxus only made her body feel it more.

She groaned and leaned her head against the doorframe.

"Did you lose your book?" Laxus called.

"No." She shook her head at the mirror. Well, she did own underwear that looked femme and didn't require tucking. Soft, with detailing around the hips. It was…closer. It would have to be close enough.

When she emerged again, now in a loose shirt and shorts, she felt slightly better. It was a lounging evening. Nobody would see her except Laxus, and he had a way of seeing her exactly as she was.

Lounging didn't require her to feel perfect in her body.

Cracking open her book, she thumped down at Laxus's side and leaned her back against his arm. He hummed and kissed her hair.

It was lovely like that.

Time slipped by with only the shuffle of pages and the occasional chuckle or consternated humph.

"Idiot," Laxus burst out at one point. "You've tried that before. Don't do it."

"What?"

"She's trying to kiss this other boy to change the nature of the future," Laxus groaned. "Don't kiss people you aren't in love with. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's gay."

"Why does she want to change the future?"

"Someone she knows is going to die—the person she  _actually_  loves."

Freed's eyes widened. "Okay, now I'm intrigued."

"You can't read it until I'm done," Laxus pouted. "I hate when your bookmark inevitably passes mine."

"Fine," she laughed.

Smiling, Laxus tilted his head against hers so that she was tucked under his chin. "I like you."

"I like you, too," she said, reaching behind her head to rub his neck.

Laxus's breathing changed, deeper and fresher. For some perfect seconds, they sat just like that, touching and being touched. Laxus's hand came up to her hip and smoothed across the exposed skin there. Just back and forth. No suggestion: Laxus was not a person with high physical needs.

But Freed had needs. Laxus had definitely started something earlier with looking so damn handsome and massaging her shoulders and sliding off the straps of her bra and making her think…

"Laxus?"

"Mm?"

Twisting around, she kissed him slowly. Laxus's mouth moved against her, movements thick, soaking it in.

When she tipped the edge of her tongue into his mouth, his breathing went shallow.

Laxus put his hands on her hips and shifted her so she was straddling his legs. They kept kissing like that, hands in each other's hair and on each other's necks. Freed moved to suck down his throat, tugging with her lips, raising red marks with her teeth.

Laxus let out a happy noise.

When she reached his chest, it struck her that her body didn't have to be involved in this. That they could still come together and it could be fun in a different way.

Rubbing a hand over the bulge in his trousers, she watched him arch back with his lips parted, panting. She slid toward the floor.

Laxus's hands, which had been on her hips, shifted down to her ass and drew her back.

"Come here," he murmured. "I want to devour you."

She frowned, unsure what he meant by that. Unsure what part of her he planned to devour.

He drew her right up against him and pressed his mouth to the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Opening his jaw wide, he laved at her, biting down on the taut skin. Freed let out a groan as his grip drew harder and harder. Her stomach fluttered, the feelings soaring back through her body and refusing this time to be ignored.

He wanted her so much. He wanted her. And she wanted him. And…

"L-Laxus, wait," she whispered. Her voice wobbled and was barely loud enough to hear.

It took him a moment to register and pull back.

"I'm…I can't…" She growled at her inability to express the compressed feelings in her chest. "I'm not free. I'm not…"

"Let's set you free, then."

"No, it's not—I want you, I do; but I don't think…"

Leaning his head against hers, he drew his nose across her cheek gently.

"You're beautiful," he breathed. "You deserve this."

Something wrenched in her heart, twisting, painful. It nearly made her cry. He'd found it the thing holding her back.

"I'm n-not sure…"

"Fuck, you're so pretty," Laxus said, sitting back. He was still breathing raggedly, but the lust had cleared from his eyes and instead he was scrutinizing her, telling her the truth. "I come home sometimes and I'm just breathless. I forget the details. The way you smile and the way you think and the way you move…gods. I love it. I could stare at you always."

But.  _But you're gay,_  she wanted to say.  _You love me because I have_ _this_ _body._

"Is it…" She stumbled, trying to find the words. "Do you like me for being masc?"

"This isn't going to make sense, but I kinda find you attractive…beyond gender. You're sometimes masc and sometimes femme and sometimes I don't even know, but I like all of it? Does that make sense? These are all facets of you, and I love you in all those facets. It's like," he went on, seeing her about to interrupt, "how I like you when you're geeking out over your job and I like you when you're so tired you act drunk. Different things, right? But both still you, and I like both."

"That does actually make sense," she said quietly.

But, but, but. Her doubts clung to her. After all, if she were ugly and misshapen and unfit, then how could she experience this? How could it be real?

"I'm sorry for being off."

"It's okay. Doesn't change things for me. Even when you can't make shit work for you, you're still you to me. And you're still really attractive, too."

* * *

Laxus watched her ponder this. Freed's face always screwed up a certain way when she was thinking, deciding, weighing facts and statements. He loved it.

He ran his hand up her thigh as she thought. Her mouth was slightly red from kissing him, and a lock of hair had fallen forward in front of her eye. The glass one, so he knew it didn't obscure her vision, but he still reached up and carefully pulled it behind her ear. He was careful with his touch; she wasn't fragile, but he didn't like his own clumsiness. He always felt his hands were too big.

"Laxus," she murmured, drawing out his name as she leaned her face against his hand.

He cradled her cheek. She was unearthly gorgeous.

Body and soul. The different parts of her body she emphasized on different days always mesmerized him. Whether Freed wore high-heeled boots and a crop top and a smirk, or dressed in tailored suit with hair up and his shoulders so fucking sharp, or like now—wearing a thin tanktop and the black bra under it which rounded her out, the way her hips gyrated slightly as she sought friction. The flexing muscles in her arms, the black around her eyes. All of her.

Fuck.

Freed took his hand and drew it up her thigh, brushing under the edge of her shorts. There was still deep consideration in her eyes, not meeting his and instead staring fixedly at his chest.

"You're very handsome," she murmured, turning pink—Freed had never been able to compliment him without blushing. Laxus secretly thought it was sweet.

His palms brushed higher, over her hips. He was staring down at her legs, and so missed the consternated expression that flitted across her face.

"You're very nicely put together," he said. "You have a nice shape."

He expected her to laugh—it sounded weird even to him, though it was honest—but when this did not happen, he glanced up.

Freed gazed at him as if he were magic.

"Thank you," she murmured.

As they stared at each other, she took his hands and led him to continue up the contour of her body, sliding slowly up her waist and ribs before he drew her carefully against his chest. She leaned her forehead against his and sighed.

It sounded contented.

"Do you…?" he asked, tentative, afraid how much it would turn him on to say the words.

"Yes," she said.

Laxus squeezed her ass and pressed the pair of them together.

Freed gasped and Laxus joined her, both of them groaning at the pressure between them. Before Laxus had recovered, Freed thrust forward again, hard against hard, and Laxus felt his entire being focus downward, on how exultant she could make him. He kissed down her neck again, little nibbles that had her breaking out in shivers.

"I love you," he said, over and over, "gods, I love you."

* * *

"I love you—b-back," Freed panted, and she meant it.

The way his fingers curled around her made her feel rounded and hold-able and not like she was missing things. She was comfortable in his touch—starting to feel what he'd said: she was beautiful.

Maybe, just maybe…

He pushed her shirt to the side exposing her shoulder, as his lips went further and further. Sideways across the tendons that came down from her neck. The bra strap went too, her shoulder now bare, and his teeth took full advantage, digging in while his tongue explored her and he sucked hickies into her skin.

She was thrusting down against him in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. This was better, both for them to last longer and because it felt good without being quite so focused on her dick. It meant she could focus on what her fingers were doing, slipping into the front of his waistband and petting through the hair there. Reaching down but not as far as he wanted, his hips jerking up trying to meet her.

She smiled. Her head was bowed so she could kiss his hair and smell his scent, watch his lips ravage her collarbone.

Freed's shoulders were completely bare now, garments pulled down enough to expose quite a bit of her chest. She soaked this in, eyes closed. There were his lips on her sternum, her skin left open for him but not quite all the way. That holding back—there was something about that she loved. The desperation it engendered in both of them.

And she could imagine that she had the body she wanted, and nothing broke the fantasy.

One of her hands slipped down the back of her shorts to start fingering herself.

Laxus's fingers were desperate on Freed's shoulders, nails dragging along the edge of cloth, and as his mouth reached the edge of her shirt, one finger snuck in and pulled at her nipple.

Freed gasped and pressed against him.

He did it again, tugging and twisting. She shifted just enough to nudge her bra down on that side, and suddenly she was out in the open and Laxus's lips were on her.

Fuck. The way he licked her, she forgot all her insecurities: there was no room for thought. When he pulled at her nipple with his teeth, then sucked it tall, she cried out. The eagerness rising in her body made her thrust her fingers into herself suddenly, and the jolt, rather than being painful, made her desperate. Her entrance so tight, so stretched, so full.

One of Laxus's hands was still on her hip, teasing up the skin and fingers wrapping around to draw along the muscles of her thigh. That hand moved further back and discovered what she was doing to herself.

Laxus's mouth disengaged from her chest and his eyes shot up to meet hers.

"Fuck," he whimpered.

Freed leaned until her lips touched his ear.

"Take me into your bed."

She wrapped her legs around him as he stood, and he carried her to the bedroom, both of them panting and groaning, and Freed enjoying the greater space she had in his trousers now. She reached in far enough to touch the base of his cock, and Laxus nearly dropped her.

He laid her back on the bed and leaned to crawl on top of her, but she used her legs to flip him and end up straddling his chest. Watching his wide eyes, she stripped her bottom half right there on top of him and sat back down on his chest, balls touching his abdomen.

"Almost ready," she murmured, eyes closing as she reached back toward her ass again, but Laxus caught her wrist in one hand.

With the other, he slid his fingers down her crack and played with her skin, eyebrow rising as he asked, "Lube?"

"Sure." She'd need it particularly now.

People with vaginas often needed lube too. This did not make her less herself.

He reached over and grabbed the bottle from the nightstand, then returned his fingers to her ass as Freed closed her eyes. He entered one finger at a time, her breath held, his chest rising and falling beneath her. Freed thought about him fucking her, thought about his cock making her full, thought about squeezing him so tight he fell apart inside her. In her body, she had the power. Inside her, he was at her mercy, and she was in control.

Her tanktop had slipped up a little and she stripped it off but left the bra on, straps dangling down her arms. There was something desperate and cuddly about that, especially when a groaning Laxus stripped out of his shirt and trousers and she was able to lean down over him and feel his skin warm against hers.

His cock tapped her ass cheek and she realized how hard and turned on he was.

The way she loved making him.

She grabbed hold of him in one hand, giving a few fast strokes that had him whining and twisting and scrunching his face in pleasure, then led him up and pressed his head in.

It was wide, and tight, and it felt like everything she needed.

"Laxus," she hissed. "Fuck, the rest of the way, inside—inside."

They moved together, Laxus sliding in and Freed taking him, holding him, laying siege to him.

Whatever else could be said for it, it was her body. Through it, she could feel a thousand wonders, and right now, one of those wonders was Laxus Dreyar's cock pulsing inside her.

She moved forward and back. Laxus slid out and back into her.

"Fuck," Laxus hissed, throwing his head back as she thrust again, again.

She'd had to strip her bottom half completely for this, but with her eyes closed and mind on the pleasure she got from what they were doing, she could wrap her fingers around herself and not feel out of place. She had a sort of distance from her own cock: it was like jacking Laxus off, like when she pushed him against the wall and hand-fucked him until his legs wouldn't hold him anymore.

Laxus's hands came up to her chest and he squeezed either side of the bra. Freed felt his touch through the material and loved it. What tits she had were sexy like this. They were enough. She was enough.

Her body was attractive to him.

She twisted her fingers around the head of her cock and felt how that sent pleasure rushing through her. Sitting up, she lifted herself up to fuck down on him, feeling him slide in and out of her body with ease.

"Fuck me," she groaned.

"I am," he said, grinning.

"I'm fucking myself on you," she corrected, giving him a mischievous eyebrow. "I'm the one doing the fucking here, Mr Dreyar."

"Ms Justine. You're damn fucking good at it," Laxus managed, eyes squeezing tight when another thrust delivered desired sensations to both of them.

"You fill me," she said. "It feels like…like there's a hole in me that's filled."

"There  _is_  a—"

"I'm trying to be poetic," she growled, leaning down and taking his mouth in a harsh kiss. She overwhelmed his tongue with her own, and when he parted his lips to mouth at her, she thrust in and bit his lip.

"I want to be…your girl," she said.

"You  _are_  my—jesus christ—my girl. You're my everything."

Freed panted as Laxus thrust up.

"Fuck, Laxus," she groaned. "Holy fuck…"

"Freed," he murmured against her skin. "Freed…"

His warm hands cradled her skin as he pulled her against his chest. His hips tilted to enter her and Freed let out a cry, letting go.

The pleasure melted through her, warm and soft and buttery. It infused her being, as the tension that had been building since he first touched her released in a satisfied wave.

"Fuuuuck," she moaned, pace slowing as she humped through several final thrusts.

She stilled for a moment, feeling him still inside her.

"Did you just come?" Laxus asked.

"Yeah," she chuckled, out of breath. She understood his question: it was the other kind of pleasure and so she was still hard. But that stiffness would fade, and she didn't feel like doing anything particular about it.

She lay her head wearily on his chest.

"Want to take over on top?" she asked.

Laxus shifted, easing out of her, and to her surprise, he exited completely and slumped back.

"I'm good actually," he said, a contented smile on his face.

"You sure?"

"That felt good," he nodded. "I really liked that. Thank you."

She hummed and slid off of him into the bed. It was a little early for sleep, but the sky outside was dark and sleep sounded good after how emotionally taxing the day had been.

"Lights, but…I don't feel like getting up," Laxus laughed.

"I'll do it." She kissed his cheek and turned off the lights before returning to the bed. Only limping a little—good things were worth a little soreness.

"Freed?" Laxus asked tentatively. "Would you, um…be okay with cuddling?"

"Of course," she said in surprise. Rolling up against his arm, she laid her hand on his chest and felt it rise and fall. "Is someone in need of a hug this evening?"

She could practically hear him blushing. "…Yeah."

"Laxus," she whispered, squeezing him tightly. "You are a wonderful human being and I love you very much."

"Mm. You're amazing."

Freed smiled. "Sleep well."

"You, too."

"Mm, after that? I definitely will."

There were a few seconds of silence when Laxus's chest rose.

"Freed?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you feel okay?"

She blinked into the darkness.

"I feel alright," she said, knowing some of the insecurity remained, but much of the anxiety had been stripped from it. "I feel like you really, really love me."

"That's the truth," he said, and burrowed down into her embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I totally did not expect this to end in smut, lol. This morning I had a hankering for Fraxus smut, and there's not a lot, and it feels like I've read all the good stuff so many times… So when there's a need, make it yourself, right? ;P


End file.
